Oregon’s only* Chick-fil-A restaurant opened yesterday in the paved paradise of Tanasbourne, a tangled collection of shopping complexes and parking lots in the suburb of Hillsboro. Knowing my affinities for both heart disease and traffic, Wm. Steven Humphrey Slack-chatted me yesterday, urging me to go out there and report. [*note: This is actually the third Chick-fil-A in the state. Two other Chick-fil-As existed in Oregon, but they closed in 1995 and 2003.]
The grand opening was no small thing—one Chick-fil-A employee told me that by late afternoon, it was on track to be the Atlanta fast-food franchise’s largest store opening ever, besting a recent splashy opening in Seattle. When I arrived, a friendly employee was guiding the influx of traffic and advised me to park in an adjacent lot, as Chick-fil-A’s own parking was maxed out. A disturbingly long line of cars and SUVs snaked not only around the restaurant itself, but a few of the adjacent big-box stores, too, idling as they waited for a chance at the drive-thru window. Another line of about 40 or so car-less humans seeped out of the restaurant’s front doors. None of these eager eaters seemed overly concerned with the fundamentalist religious views of the company, or the controversy over Chick-fil-A’s past support of organizations that oppose same-sex marriage. Everyone there was united in a desire to eat delicious processed chicken—lifestyle choices and cholesterol levels be damned.
I took my spot in the line behind some bored-looking teenagers. Somebody dressed as a cow moseyed around, presumably getting paid to do so by Chick-fil-A. A hype man was stationed outside the door, playing Coldplay and One Direction songs and amping the crowd up through a microphone. Once in a while he’d come down the line to greet each patron individually. He shook my hand and took notice of the book I’d brought to read while waiting, and said, “You know, you’re the first person I’ve seen reading all day.” (Oddly, another employee said the exact same thing to me once I was inside and seated. Conclusion: Chick-fil-A employees are not used to seeing their customers reading books.)
To Chick-fil-A’s credit, the line moved impressively and efficiently. An army of employees, both behind and in front of the counter, made sure the ordering process was smooth and speedy. Most of the employees were really young—high school kids, probably. It seemed pretty obvious to me that more than one of them was gay, or would be gay whenever they got the hell out of Hillsboro. Good for you, future-gay Chick-fil-A employees! I ordered some chicken nuggets, waffle fries, and sweet tea. It was delivered to my table a couple minutes later.
I guess that most people who braved the line on opening day were people who’d eaten Chick-fil-A before? And I guess they thought it was really, really good? I’ve had Chick-fil-A a few times before, and it’s, like, fast food chicken. It’s totally fine and forgettable. Chick-fil-A (I cannot tell you how much I dislike typing that inane name over and over) sells chicken sandwiches; they even say they invented the chicken sandwich, a claim I’m not prepared to investigate or invalidate right now. They also sell fried chicken—or, rather, chicken nuggets and strips—along with some other bullshit like salads and wraps that no one orders.
The chicken nuggets were hot and sweet. I think they must put honey and peanuts in the batter, because the little poultry balls tasted more of these flavors than they did of chicken. The waffle fries, meanwhile, were hot and potato-ey and okay. Look, I know this is a controversial take, but the waffle shape is the incorrect vessel for salted fried potato. Shoestring, steak-cut, jo-jos, those little wispy fancy fries, even the questionable crinkle cut—all of them have waffle fries beat, without question. The waffle fry is superior only to the misguided curly fry, which is easily the least successful type of fry on the fry spectrum. That said, Chick-fil-A’s famed waffle fries are fine. Like anything fried, the human mouth enjoys how it tastes.
So yes, my meal of fried material paired with other fried material tasted totally good. Of course it did! I washed it down with the sugary tea beverage, felt full, and, later, regretful and unhealthy. I slowly drove away from Tanasbourne, my blood vessels constricting as I inched through a truly upsetting amount of standstill traffic, relieved in the knowledge that I’d never feel compelled to return to sample the wares of Chick-fil-A again. (And if such an itch does come over me, a second branch is opening in Clackamas, a substantially easier place to get to.) The cult of the restaurant does seem to be a very real thing, but if you feel compelled to try it for yourself, remember that they’re closed on Sunday. Because Jesus.
Their chicken is OK. Far from the best chicken sandwich in the world. Wendy’s is better. And Wendy’s chicken doesn’t damn the gays to eternal hellfire.
I’m from Florida, have lived in Salem for the past year, and my husband and I adore Chick-Fil-A. Driving up tomorrow to get some. 🙂 The whole article came off as exactly how I would imagine a Portland view about it to be–snarky and condescending. If you’d had it before, and weren’t a fan, why ‘subject’ yourself to the ‘horror’ of going back? Clearly, plenty of people enjoy it–I’m glad they finally wizened up and opened a few stores here. 🙂
Which part was snarky and condescending, japangirlcmw? The part about TWO employees commenting about Ned reading a book? The part about the food being average at best?
There is a reason Chick-fil-A has failed in the area twice before, and it has nothing to do with politics. The food is way over-hyped and Portlanders never fell for it. I had it a few times when they had a location at the Lloyd Center Mall – the food was forgettable (as was most of the other restaurants’ food). I wasn’t shocked when it was shut down.